


Conversion

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Church Sex, Corruption, Cunnilingus, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Re-written fic that was a victim of the Great Tumblr Purge. You're about to take your holy orders and commit yourself to God - but the new Father is very distracting and as it turns out, he's a bit of a demon.





	Conversion

It had been close to two years since you had decided to walk this path, and as you watched the sun set through the stained glass window of the small chapel, you felt an odd displacement in your chest. You tilted your head to the side, letting the warmth of the rays flow over you, the colours sparkling in the glass as night drew over the sky.

Tomorrow, you were to take your Holy vows. Tomorrow, you would become a Sister of the Benedictine Order, committing your life to God and his teachings.

A soft rap on the wooden door of the chapel had you standing and clearing your throat as you turned to see Father Hammett at the door, a soft smile on his handsome face. He had only arrived two days prior, and he was causing quite a stir amongst the Novices in the convent.

"Are you finished, Novice Y/L/N?" he asked, his deep, gruff timbre making your heart speed up a little. His green eyes focused on yours and you bent your knees, bowing a little to him as a sign of respect.

"Yes, Father. Please, excuse me." You moved across the chapel, intending on moving past him. You’d not gotten further than a metre into the hall before he softly called your name. "Yes, Father?"

"You take your Holy Orders tomorrow, don’t you?"

You nodded, pride welling in your chest as you clasped your hands in front of you. "Yes, Father."

He smiled widely, revealing rows of perfect white teeth. "I believe I am the one administering the ceremony." His hand came up to fiddle with the white collar at his neck; it must have been too tight. "You shall have to be patient with me; it’s my first time."

"Mine too, Father." You smiled at your own little joke and Father Hammett chuckled. "I am sure you will do the vows justice."

"I intend to." He grinned. "Now, a good night’s rest is always conducive to any day. Good night, Novice."

"Good night, Father." You bowed again before turning away towards the dormitories. The soft thud of the chapel door closing echoed along the corridor behind you. There was no one else lingering in the halls at this time of the evening, and you quickly removed yourself to your small room.

It was bare, save for a few religious hangings. Your Bible sat on the small bedside cabinet, your study papers on the desk opposite the little cot you had for a bed. Simplistic but it would be home, unless the Church decided to use your skills elsewhere. As you sat on the bed, you curled your fingers around the edge of the wooden frame, feeling the weight of the day to come on your shoulders.

_ "Are you sure this is what you want, baby?" Your mother looked so concerned when you showed her the application to join the convent. You smiled, nodding. She wouldn’t be happy - this gave her no chance of grandchildren. But you’d felt the call, and knew you would follow it. _

_ "Mom, you’ve raised me to be this person. I’ve been to college, got my degree. I’ve dated, I’ve socialised and I’ve found no happiness greater than the happiness I get from my faith. I can do good in this life. I know I can." _

Two years, and you’d only received a few letters from her since. She expressed concern every time, worrying that you were making the wrong choice. But it wasn’t as though this was a life sentence - no one was forced to stay here. If, further down the line, you decided that being a Sister wasn’t the right decision, you could leave.

A bell rang through the building and you stood, shuffling to the wardrobe to pull out your night garments. You undressed slowly, ignoring the discomfort when you pulled the slightly scratchy nightgown over your body. Tomorrow, you would no longer wear grey - you would wear the black cloth of a Sister and start to do some good in the world.

You lay down on the cot, turning from side to side as the day ahead ran through your mind, and you sighed, knowing that sleep would be slow in coming to you.

*****

In line with tradition, you rose early the next morning, washing in cold water in the tiny basin in your room. You dressed in your grey Novice robes, and fixed your hair underneath the veil before heading down to the large hall where everyone gathered to break fast.

The senior Sisters were already sat, eating quietly, whilst the Novices occupied the other end of the hall, a nervous chatter amongst them. A few older nuns gave reprimanding looks to their younger peers but it went ignored. You took a seat next to Novice Ori, your friend since you’d joined the convent. She was wild and unruly and you wondered if she’d ever take her Holy Orders. She’d told you before that she was only here because her parents forced the issue.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, nudging you with her shoulder. You smiled, cheeks heated as you nodded.

"A little nervous."

"Rather you than me," she sniggered, taking another mouthful of the bland muesli they normally served up. You had a bowl in front of you; you took a spoonful, watching it drip from the cutlery into the bowl. "Although, I hear you have Father Dreamy as your committing priest."

You raised an eyebrow as you looked over at her. "You mean Father Hammett?"

Ori laughed. "Every novice here is jealous as hell."

"We’re not meant to be coveting the flesh, Novice Ori," you scolded, swallowing down the tasteless food. "You’ve been told about that before."

"Please," Ori waved a hand at you dismissively, "the only vow I’m taking is the vow to get the hell outta dodge. You should too. You’re gonna regret giving up your life, Y/N."

"It’s my decision. God has called me to the Church. My faith is everything." Even now, the words seemed as tasteless as the food you were eating, and you bite down on the dismay in your throat. You’d committed to this. You had to at least  _ try _ .

Ori shrugged. "Well, come and see me afterwards. I’ve got some vodka stashed in my cell."

You tutted. "It’s not a  _ cell _ , Ori. You’re not in prison. And you shouldn’t have alcohol."

"Prison would be more fun," she muttered, pushing her bowl away. A bell chimed in the distance and the rest of the convent started to get up from their seats - you remained seated. "Have fun with Priest Dreamy," Ori called, waving at you as the rest of the Novices left, abandoning you to the hall. For a few long moments, you remained alone, until Sister Crawford entered the room, smiling at you softly.

"Novice Y/L/N. Would you please follow me?"

You bowed your head, approaching her until she turned her back and left the hall. Following obediently, you heard nothing except the hard thump of your heart in your chest as nervous butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Over and over you heard your mother’s voice, asking if this was what you really wanted. Closing your eyes for a brief second, you almost walked into the Sister’s back; you smiled apologetically as she opened the door to the principle chapel, only used by the Sisters, and the visiting clergy. The Novices were only allowed in there on special events, usually Christ Mass.

"You will approach the altar and kneel, child," Sister Crawford ordered, gesturing to the corridor between the pews. Father Hammett stood at the Altar, dressed in the ceremonial purple over his regular priest black. He was smiling too, but there was an edge to the air and you sniffed, frowning as you caught a whiff of sulphur. "Do not worry, Y/N." Sister Crawford whispered, taking your expression for worry. "God is with you."

You smiled, nodding, dismissing your doubts as you stepped into the room. Sister Crawford shut the doors behind you with a soft slam and you jumped, confused. You were sure this required witnesses.

"Father Hammett?" you asked, approaching the altar and kneeling but keeping your eyes on his. It could have been perceived as disrespectful but he didn’t seem to care, his green eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

"Yes, Novice Y/L/N?"

"I thought...pardon my boldness, but I thought we were supposed to have witnesses for the vows."

He chuckled and you pulled your head back, confusion and worry coursing through you. "No, Y/N. You’re not taking your vows today. At least, not the ones you prepared for."

"I beg your pardon?" Your eyebrows shot up with shock at his casual tone. Father Hammett ignored the exclamation, pulling the purple fabric from his shoulders.

"You know, I worked really hard to get this all into place. You’d be amazed how difficult it is to pretend to be a priest and get into a convent when you’re...a little less than holy." He glanced at you, his eyes flickering black and you shrieked, standing to back away from him. "But you were worth it, baby."

"I - I -" you stammered, fear stopping you in your retreat as the “priest” watched you closely. "I don’t understand."

Father Hammett laughed loudly, motioning to the doors with his hand. "Now we can have some privacy. No one is going to interrupt this special occasion for you, sweetheart." You stared at him, wide eyed as he stepped down from the altar, approaching you slowly, like he was coming close to a frightened animal. "And you can call me Dean."

"D-Dean? But, I thought -"

"You thought wrong,” he corrected, stalking you. “I’m not a priest. I’m a demon. More than that." He smirked, his eyes filling with black. Your heart froze in your chest and for a second, you thought you might pee yourself. "I’m a Knight Of Hell. And I’ve chosen you."

"Chosen me for what?" Your throat was dry making your voice scratchy as you spoke, taking a step back from his approach.

It didn’t stop him.

Dean grinned, reaching out to cup your face with one big hand. His palm was cold, almost clammy, the pad of his thumb rough when it cast over your skin. "I’ve chosen you to be mine. I saw you, and I knew I had to have you. This sweet, pure vessel -" He cocked his head to the side, inhaling deeply; was he scenting you? "You’re the complete opposite of the man I used to be, and the man I’ve become."

"You’re a demon," you whispered, shaking your head. "I would never -"

"You would never what? Commit to this sin?" he laughed, his green eyes raking over your clothed body. "Oh but you would. I know about your dreams, and your doubts, sweetheart. You’ve all but confessed them to me." He leaned in, his sinfully pink lips close to your ear as you shuddered. "Shouldn’t you be screaming for help?" Heat pooled between your thighs and you squeezed them together, biting your bottom lip when Dean pulled away, a triumphant smirk on his lips. "See? I can smell you, smell your desire."

"It’s not...I can’t...please, just let me go." Your voice was barely a whisper, your tone not quite what you’d expected. Dean smirked, shaking his head.

"You don’t want that, not really."

You felt a scowl pull at your face, indignant at his presumption of your wants. "I want to follow my faith."

"I’m not asking you to deny that, sweetheart," Dean held his hands out, gesturing to the chapel around you, "but this life, this isn’t you. You’re made for so much more. You’re made for greatness and you’ve been pledging your life to a being that doesn’t give a fuck if you do or not." Your eyes widened at his use of such an explicit word and he chuckled. "You’re so sweet and innocent. Of course, I know you’re not  _ innocent _ in the Biblical sense." You gaped at his audacity but Dean merely chuckled, walking around you. "And I could give you some vows that would be so much more..." His hand pressed against your ass and you gasped, trembling but not pulling away, even as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Pleasurable."

"Father -"

"I’m not a Father," he reminded, pulling away once more. "But you can call me ‘Daddy’ if you like." You shivered as he walked around you again, almost like he was appraising you from every angle. "You’re one of His best creations, if you ask me." His voice was quiet, an almost admiring quality to his tone. "Who better to possess you than me? I was once intended to be the vessel for Michael."

You blinked at that snippet of information, as Dean sniggered.

"Yeah, me and my brother. We stopped the Apocalypse. And now everyone wants to begrudge me a little bit of fun. It’s not like I’m out slaughtering the masses." He shrugged like his comment wasn’t completely surreal. "I just want to be left alone. I just want to live the life denied to me before this stupid Mark. Is that so bad?" For a second, he leaned toward you, a hint of the man he might have been on his handsome face. "Is it so bad to want to be free?"

You shook your head, feeling a slight pang of sympathy for him, before you scolded yourself internally. "Please, I won’t tell a soul..."

"I don’t know why you’re begging. I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N." Dean frowned. "And I don’t want you to be scared of me." His hand cupped your face again and this time you didn’t flinch away, instead letting your eyes rest in his green gaze. A sudden warmth flooded your veins as both of you stood there, almost like statues, Dean’s soft breathing mirroring your own. "I just want you to realise that you were made for so much more."

"But...my vows," you whispered.

Dean smirked; it was the most sinful expression you’d ever seen. "Make them to me." You frowned, unsure of his meaning. "I mean, how does it go, nowadays?" He withdrew his hand, stepping back. "Vow Of Obedience. That’s pretty easy. You do as I tell you." Gesturing toward you, his smile only grew in mischievousness . "Strip, sweetheart. Take off those ugly grey things and show me what God created."

You hesitated, glancing back towards the door. A war had started inside you; the good Catholic-raised girl, who insisted that he was committing the ultimate sin, and the side of you that you had always denied. Hedonism was the path to hell, that was what your grandmother had always said, sat in her stiff, straight backed chair, her hair in a neat bun, not a stitch out of place in her propriety.

"What, you think Grandma didn’t suck a dick or two in her time?" Dean invaded your thoughts, scraping the pad of his thumb along his lower lip. Staring at him, you wondered if he could hear everything you were thinking, which was about the time your mind started going to the dark, pornographic material you’d indulged in during your youth. 

He laughed.

"Trust me, sweetheart. Everyone’s got a dark side. You too. I can practically feel it inside you, begging to be let out, begging for you to live your life."

A dark coil of desire pooled in your belly as he spoke - you reached up, unpinning the veil from your hair, letting it fall to the floor. Shaking your head to relieve the ache of confinement, you found yourself startled at the sound he made in response. 

"That’s it, baby," he encouraged, leaning back against the altar. 

You took a breath, reaching around for the button at the back of your neck, unfastening it to allow yourself the room to pull the top half of the grey novice robes over your head. As the material came free of your skin, it joined the veil on the floor, leaving you clad in the simple white bra and long grey skirt. Dean groaned, palming the growing erection in the front of the black clergy pants he was wearing.

"This...this is okay?" you whispered, unsure of yourself now you’d started. Dean nodded, motioning for you to continue. Your fingers shook as you unzipped the skirt and let it pool around your ankles, stepping free. You used your toes to push your shoes off, your socks with them, and Dean’s eyes darkened as he watched you stand slightly awkwardly in front of him, your white bra and matching panties almost a testament to your “innocence”.

"White. Almost traditional." The demon grinned, coming forward again. "But you vowed to Obey, right?" he asked, and you nodded. "Then you’re not done." 

Swallowing, you reached back to unhook the boring white bra, letting it drop to the floor with the rest of your clothes before bending to push your panties down your legs. They were visibly damp as you removed them and Dean inhaled deeply as you stood straight, avoiding his gaze. 

"Smells like someone’s a little excited." He was still touching himself, watching you like you were his next meal. “Come here.” You obeyed, stepping into his hold, feeling his warm hand rest on your hip. "Now, what’s the next vow?"

"S - stability," you whispered and Dean smirked.

"I’ve got the perfect way for you to show me," he spoke as he dropped to his knees. "Spread your legs for me, baby."

"What - what are you doing?!" you asked, almost hissing at him as he nudged your thighs open, exposing your cunt to his view.

"Oh, that’s a pretty little pussy," he commented, and you reached down, intending on pushing him away. Your fingers threaded through soft locks as he pulled you closer; you whimpered at the first touch of his fingers on your slick sex. "Baby, you are so wet," Dean praised, pushing one long digit into your channel before removing it and sucking your essence into his mouth. "Now," he grinned up at you, "don’t fall over."

You opened your mouth to speak but it came out as a cry when his tongue touched against your clit, massaging the tiny bundle of nerves with the tip. He hoisted your right leg up over his shoulder, leaving you shaking on one foot whilst he licked and sucked at your pussy, thrusting his tongue into your hole before dragging it up to seek out your clit again. It was swollen with need, almost pulsing and you threw your head back, fingers still in his hair as he worked you over expertly, his fingers aiding with lazy thrusts into your drenched cunt.

"Dean..." you whimpered, a harsh but pleasurable sensation building in your core, pounding outwards through your veins as he kept applying pressure to your clit. His fingers buried themselves in your cunt, curling inward - he touched on a spot you’d never felt before. 

A feeling like liquid fire burst through you and you screamed in pleasure, your hips rolling, your insides clamouring for more pressure, more friction as you came hard on his fingers and mouth. Your legs wobbled but you didn’t fall, and Dean pulled away with a triumphant smirk, your juices glistening on his chin.

"Good girl," he muttered, standing and holding you steady. "I think that just about covers it." He leaned in close, pressing his lips to yours, stealing a first kiss from you. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his mouth, apparently pleasing him with the sound. "Fuck, you’re amazing, and I haven’t even had a chance to sink my thick cock into that tight little pussy yet."

"I...I..." You had no words and the desire to push him backwards and take what your body was demanding was overwhelming. "Dean..."

"One vow left, sweetheart." His eyes sparkled mischievously, black dancing around the edges. "What’s the last one?"

"The...the Vow Of Conversion," you gasped, as he grabbed your hand and placed it over his erection, straining against the fabric of his pants. "I don’t..." He was thick and hard underneath your palm, the heat of him almost cutting a straight line to your own sex.

"I do." Dean released your hand, smiling when you didn’t remove it. You squeezed gently "You’re going to return the favour." Unfastening his pants, he let his cock spring free, obviously expecting you to run.

You didn’t.

Lust was a powerful emotion and he’d woken it inside you, giving you the out you’d denied yourself. You dropped to your knees, wrapping your fingers around his swollen shaft.

Dean smiled triumphantly. "God, that’s it, sweetheart,” he purred, watching you stroke him experimentally.

Twenty minutes ago, taking the Lord’s name in vain would have prompted you to scold him, but right now, with a demon’s thick cock inches from your face, you didn’t think that was appropriate.

Sticking your tongue out delicately, you tried to remember how you’d done this the last time. You’d only done it once, and you were suddenly terrified of disappointing him. Something must have come across in your demeanour, as Dean’s hand suddenly cupped your cheek and he smiled at you. This smile wasn’t filthy, or demeaning, or victorious - he was smiling at you like he genuinely cared.

"Don’t worry. You definitely won’t disappoint me, baby."

Confidence bolstered by his words and expression, you moved forward, running your tongue over his tip. He tasted salty, but not unpleasant, and you moaned as you took an inch or so of him between your lips, encouraged by the throaty growl he gave. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer and you took him into your mouth as far as you could, doing what felt right.

Dean grunted as you worked your mouth over him a few times, building up the saliva on your tongue, before tracing the underside of him. The vein there pulsed and throbbed against your tongue; he moaned in response as you massaged him with your lips, using one hand to hold the few inches you couldn’t fit into your mouth. As you pulled away, you increased the pressure on his tip, running your tongue over the weeping slit, tasting his precum on your tongue.

Hell was a certain destination for you now, on your knees in the House Of God, a demon’s cock between your lips that had once praised His name. Now you were moaning like a wanton whore.

"Stop," Dean growled, pulling back. "Fuck. Jesus Christ." 

You smiled, feeling bolder than you’d  _ ever _ felt in your life. "Was it good?" you asked, batting your eyelashes coyly up at him and he growled, before hauling you to your feet. With a rough touch, he dragged you towards the altar, sweeping everything off of it with his free arm. The candles and metal holders clattered to the ground but you paid them no mind as Dean lifted you onto the cold stone table.

"You’re mine," he snarled, ripping the white collar out of the priest get-up and throwing it to the floor amongst the doused candles. You mewled in need as he roughly thrust two fingers into your cunt, making sure you were wet enough for him. "I’ll show Him, and everyone else." Crying out, you didn’t fight when he pushed you onto your back, lifting your knees, before positioning himself at your soaked entrance.

With one swift thrust, he was sheathed inside you to the hilt and you screamed in a combination of pain and pleasure, drowning out Dean’s groaned " _ so fucking tight _ .” 

He didn’t wait long for you to adjust, the need to fuck you too overwhelming to ignore. "You’re exactly how I imagined. Hot, wet and tight. My perfect little slut." He seized your mouth, thrusting his tongue against yours in time with his thrusts into your cunt. You whimpered, positive you were going to die of pleasure as your second orgasm built to a crescendo. 

Dean surrendered your mouth as you tightened around his thick cock with your impending release and pushed up onto his hands so he could fuck you harder into the stone altar. Somewhere in the background, shouts and banging started, but you were too busy coming undone around the demon inside you, screaming for him. He grinned, knowing he had you, watching you toss your head back and forth, babbling for him to be harder, faster -

"Too late. She’s mine now," he muttered, latching onto your neck with his teeth, breaking the skin with a harsh bite. You screeched again, vaguely aware of the pain but overwhelmed with pleasure. "Fucking tight little whore. God never wanted you. But I fucking do." 

Slamming into you once more, he forced a strangled finally cry from your lips.

The doors to the chapel burst open. Dean emptied into you, black swallowing green as he finished looking over at the door where the Sisters and two Priests stood staring in shock at the pornographic show in their holiest chapel.

He was still mostly dressed but you were unabashedly nude and fucked out, sprawled across the altar.

"She’s made her vows," he announced; you shook away the bliss from your mind, realising with dread that you had an audience. "And they weren’t for God," he snarled. 

One of the priests rushed forward, a cross held high but it was too late.

Dean clicked his fingers and you were gone.


End file.
